The artist's muse

Staring at her while she slept
Her lips parted her pillow wet
He smiled and picked up his easel
Running his hands over the blank canvass he was ready
Putting his oils and paints in near reach,He picked up his pencil
He drew her highly arched eyebrows,her  sinfully full lips,and the curve of her hip
He outlined her beautiful calves and the tattoo around her ankle
Pausing he stared as she shifted, her hand rising to scratch an itch
The movement left the swell of her bosom exposed, blushing he defined it on paper
Taking great care he drew her hair
God, her hair
He looked at it, fighting the urge to touch it
The sable mass of dark curls,poofy and kinky
He outlined her slender arms and the dip of her waist
With precision and flare he picked up his brush and began painting
With blues and purples and inky black hues  that fit her colourful personality
Taking time to polish the visible scars and enhance the beauty in her flaws
He worked silently and swiftly his forehead creased in concentration
Sweat dripped from his face as he paid attention to the little details
The dimple in her right thigh and the slight crookedness of her toenail
With one last swish, he felt the tension in his shoulders  ease
He bit his lip staring at his latest master piece
Finally he cracked a smile seemingly content with it
He picked up his pencil  one last time and signed it
With one last look at his muse, snorring softly into the thick quilt
He picked up his paints and left, slipping out the door without any sound heard
Toweling his wet hair, He stood by the window of his almost empty apartment
With an unobstructed view into her bedroom, he saw her yawn and stretch
He registered the shock on her face as she saw the easel
Standing up from the bed looking deshevled and sinfully delicious
He swallowed and watched her mouth form the shape of an o as she gasped
Looking left and right as if to find the artist hiding behind her potted plants
He saw her mouth open as she took in the likeness of her in the paper
He watched as realisation dawned on her
As her eyes travelled to his perfectly scrawled signature on the bottom
He watched as she let out a little scream, her chest rising and falling as she ran for her phone
He turned away then, knowing who she'd dialed
Picking up his rucksack he knew he had to move on now
Even tho she'd been his best inspiration
He hated it but knew it must have been a little unsettling
Receiving a still wet painting from " your friendly neighbourhood STALKER "